


Reach

by dearfriendicanfly



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, as usual idek what to tag this, oops i keep warming up by making myself cry over these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28517496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearfriendicanfly/pseuds/dearfriendicanfly
Summary: Frodo’s hands are small, but they carry such a heavy burden.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	Reach

Sam loves Frodo’s hands.

They’re just a little smaller than his own, and fit perfectly in the hollows of his palms on those dark nights when the bitter cold blows and the distant sounds of life are distorted and made grotesque by the winds that carry them. In the darkness, Frodo will seek Sam’s hands. He’ll find them right beside him, open to him. He’ll let Sam cradle his hands with the same care he would a seedling, and fall asleep under his Sam’s faithful watch. The little gardener will not sleep until he hears Frodo’s breaths slow to an even pace, until he feels Frodo’s hands in his own relax and turn warm. When he does fall asleep, it will be holding Frodo’s hands close to his heart. 

_ I’m with you, _ Sam wants to say. He tries to dream the words as if somehow it will help Frodo feel less alone through the night.

They will wake hand in hand, and Sam’s heart will grow heavy when Frodo gently slips out of his grasp to go meet the day and its burdens.

Frodo’s hands are small, but they carry such a heavy burden. Though he rarely complains, he cannot hide the slow hollowing of his once round and ruddy cheeks, the way his aching feet drag behind him, the bruises on his neck where the Ring’s chain weighs heavily upon it. He rarely speaks at all, now. He just stares at the road ahead of him with such dim, empty eyes as Sam has never seen before. It makes his heart feel like it could crush him under its own weight.

And yet, when Sam feels all the sadness and anger for his poor master choke him, when words fail and his eyes well up with tears, Frodo will slip his little hand in Sam’s. In spite of everything, he will try to comfort his Sam. And Sam will kiss that scarred and bony hand and weep that Frodo should still have the strength to forgive Sam his weakness.

_ You’re with me, _ Sam thinks, as if it’s nothing short of a miracle. When Frodo gives his hand a squeeze, brief and fragile, Sam thinks that he has never known anyone as strong as his Frodo and never will.

So many would try to part them. So many times, they almost succeed. Sam will never forget the sight of Frodo embalmed in gossamer, the coldness of his skin when Sam kisses him goodbye. When he holds Frodo in the tower of Cirith Ungol and feels the warmth of him, it’s enough to crack Sam’s heart wide open.

_ I’ll never let you go, _ he thinks. He plants another kiss on Frodo’s forehead, this time a promise rather than a goodbye.  _ Never. _

Sam carries Frodo up the mountain on his back, knowing in his heart that this will be the end of them both. He is not afraid to die. The only thing he fears is his own weakness. To let Frodo slip through his hands when they’re this close to the end would be a fate worse than death.

And after it all, how could Sam judge Frodo on the mountaintop? How could he ever be angry? Frodo’s hands are so small, and his burden is so heavy. Frodo puts on the ring and vanishes, goes somewhere Sam cannot follow. In his heart, Sam feels this is truly the death of him. He screams and reaches out his hands, begging, praying. Frodo does not reach back.

It’s a miracle the stone doesn’t kill Sam as Gollum smashes it into his head. Sam collapses, dazed, watching helplessly as Gollum attacks Frodo and bites the finger right off his hand. One moment they’re there, fighting bloody tooth and bloody nail, and the next they’re gone, and Sam grows cold and sick at the thought of losing Frodo to the fire. 

He gets up, and it’s yet another miracle that he can even stand. He runs to the cliff’s edge, and there is Frodo, hanging on by the tips of his little fingers.

“Give me your hand!” Sam cries, reaching as far as he can. It’s not enough. Frodo must reach back.

“Take my hand!” Sam begs him, roaring over the fire. Frodo tries, but his hand is slick with blood and he slips through Sam’s grasp. For one horrible, stomach dropping moment, Sam thinks he’s lost him. But Frodo holds on.

The look in his eyes makes Sam feel sick. He looks so tired, so empty, as he dangles there above the flames. His strength is utterly spent, and who could blame him? If Sam could just reach him, he would lift him out of that horrible pit all on his own. But he can’t.

“Don’t you let go,” Sam says through gritted teeth. Tears slide down his grimy cheeks as he asks one last unreasonable thing of Frodo. Begs him to be strong, even though it’s selfish.

“Don’t let go…  _ REACH! _ ”

And Frodo Baggins, the strongest creature in all the world, reaches out a little hand. And Samwise Gamgee, the truest friend there ever was, pulls him out of the depths and back onto his feet. 

They face the end of the world together, hand in hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> im working on other things i swear but im also hormonal and keep crying about hobbits im so sorry


End file.
